Lerial raps and then opens the door without waiting for a response.
Rhamuel, who has been looking out the window into the hazy summerlike sky, jerks his head back toward the door in annoyance. “I said—” His mouth opens as Emerya lets the head scarf slip off her hair and away from her face.
“I heard you might need a healer,” Emerya says as softly as Lerial has ever heard her speak.
“I … never … how…” Rhamuel looks at Lerial.
“I asked for the best,” Lerial manages to reply almost blandly, although he feels anything but bland, after hearing Emerya’s voice and seeing the expression on the duke’s face.
“Lerial … you are a devious bastard.” Rhamuel tries not to smile, although he cannot control the dampness from his eyes. “Why didn’t you—”
“I could only ask, and she came faster than a reply would have.” Lerial wants to smile in relief—and joy—because he has seen the looks between the two. “Now that I have delivered the best healer in Hamor, I’m going to leave the two of you and wait outside while she determines the state of your health and injuries.” He manages not to grin as he steps back, opens the study door, and then leaves, making certain that the door is closed firmly behind him.
Sammyl’s face remains almost frozen in puzzlement, while Norstaan is doing his best to hide a wide grin.
“The healer I escorted in to see the duke is the best in Hamor, most likely one of the best in the world. She is also my aunt, and the one who healed him after his ill-advised attack on Cigoerne a number of years ago. I did not know if she would travel to Swartheld when I sent the message asking if Duke Kiedron would allow her to come … or if she would choose to. That is why I said nothing, and why I did not even tell the duke.”
“She’s … the one…?” stammers the commander.
The only one, from what you just saw. “Yes.”
After a long moment, Lerial says, “While we’re waiting, why don’t you fill me in on the arrangements for Lord Mykel’s memorial?”
More than a glass passes before Emerya opens the study door. “He’d like to see all of you.” Then she looks at Lerial, who lets the other officers enter the study while he waits beside her.
“I’ll wait out here. It’s better that way.”
Lerial understands … and nods. He enters the study and closes the door, letting his order-senses range over the duke. While he can sense traces of order here and there that had not been present before, he cannot discern any major changes in Rhamuel.
The duke waits until the three senior officers are seated before clearing his throat. “The Lady Healer Emerya has consented to remain here in Swartheld for at least a time as my personal healer. She will also be working to establish a hall of healing somewhere not too far but not too close to the palace. That’s something we’ve lacked for too long. For now, she will have quarters in the palace suitable to her station.”
Sammyl frowns, if slightly.
“She is, or was, the high healer in Cigoerne, and she is Duke Kiedron’s sister.”
Sammyl cannot conceal the surprise on his face. “No one … said…”
“That’s absolutely correct, Commander,” Lerial says smoothly. “It was an unfortunate oversight on my part not to inform you and Commander Ascaar, but I was glad to see my aunt, and the duke did not realize I had not informed you.”
“What will people say?”
“No one would say a thing if I consorted her,” Rhamuel points out. “Dukes often consort the close relatives of other dukes, and after all the aid that Cigoerne has provided…” He smiles. “In fact, maybe I should consort her … after a proper time of mourning, of course, for my brothers and nephew. In the meantime, why would anyone care so long as matters appear to remain proper?”
“But…” Sammyl appears ready to protest.
“Do you think that most of the people of Afrit really care?” asks Ascaar. “All they want from the duke is to keep tariffs low and to be left alone.”
Lerial manages to keep from grinning, given that he’d been thinking along the same lines. “The only people who might care are merchanters with eligible daughters that won’t get to consort the duke. But how could they complain, at least in public, if the duke consorts the sister of another duke.” Before anyone can say more, Lerial adds, “Admittedly, I’m biased, because she is my aunt, but that’s balanced by the fact that I do like her, and if she’s in Swartheld and I’m in Cigoerne, I won’t get to see her.”